Eco-horror is having a resurgence of late, as are psilocybin mushrooms as a visual language in film. Jaco Bouwer’s formidable woodland creeper Gaia fits snugly into a recent wave of psychedelic folk horror, a subgenre that binds Ari Aster’s Midsommar, Alex Garland’s Annihilation, Ben Wheatley’s In the Earth (a recent Sundance release that would make a pitch perfect double feature with Bouwer’s entry) and even Werner Herzog’s Aguirre, the Wrath of God. Sparked by an increasing awareness of humanity’s abusive relationship with nature, eco-horror pits the survival of man and earth against one another and in the light of a global pandemic, those themes have never been as prescient.

When deputy park ranger Gabi (Monique Rockman) goes off-trail on a routine surveillance collection trip, she discovers a far-flung survivalist encampment. There, a hermitic father and son, Barend (Carel Nel) and Stefan (Alex van Dyk) respectively, live in harmony with what they deem to be sacred land. Haunted by non-human entities, the men exist precariously but purposefully, Gabi’s presence shocking the balance between devotion and zealotry into question.

Working from a script from Tertius Kapp, this South African horror import explores the relationship between modernity and nature through Gabi and Barend, with their juxtaposing worldview and philosophies building to a grandstanding diatribe where the often excellent Nel taps into the character’s wild-eyed extremism, exuding major Klaus Kinski energy. Desperate at first to flee, Gabi soon discovers that the environment has afflicted her genetic makeup, with fungus blooming from beneath her skin, threatening to overtake her in ways she nor we quite understand. To complicate issues, Gaia inserts a treasure trove of fantastical feral-spore terrors; mushroom-humanoid creatures that click, hunt, and feed on human blood. After all, horror’s gotta horror.

The practical effects-driven creature design is a highlight, effectively reminiscent of Guillermo del Toro’s work and evocative of NaughtyDog’s acclaimed ‘The Last of Us’ video game series. Beautiful and haunting, the spore-creatures are colorful pops of funky dread and their presence scurries on the borders of every nervous scene. So too does the visual intersectionality of man and mushroom make for some hauntingly beautiful tableaus. What Gaia lacks in backstory (particularly for Gabi), it makes up for with instance after instance of wowing visual magnetism, complete with a fair share of straight up tripped-out sequences, making Bouwer’s film an undeniable kaleidoscopic feast for the senses, even for those undersold on its narrative potency.

On top of the lingering sense of dread, Gaia lays down major horny vibes. The pheromones are positively bursting off the scene as the awkward sexual energy between characters oscillates and bursts like the hallucinogenic visual effects simulating a wild mushroom trip. Seriously, this movie fucks and isn’t ashamed for all to know. Even the trees are vaginal. Knotty, naughty.

As far as economic horror movies go, Gaia masterfully makes the most of its minuscule cast of four and relatively meager budget, delivering effects that wouldn’t seem out of place in a project with way more resources. Credit cinematographer Jorrie van der Walt, who stretches nature’s foreboding shadows and midday glows into sinister territory, and Pierre-Henri Wicomb’s salt-of-the-earth spook score for functioning as an audio-visual whetstone for Gaia to sharpen its scares against. Combining elements of body horror and existential dread, Bouwer’s work feels both familiar but distinct, in part due to its lavish setting and strong performances. Highly recommended for my fellow horror nuts.

CONCLUSION: Making its mark on the eco-horror field, Gaia forgoes deep character development to focus on larger themes of man vs. nature, all underscored by a chilling sense of unease. The hallucinogenic visual effects are often stunning as is the expert creature design. Carel Nel as a crazed survivalist really pops.